was as plain as
a highway wherever they went. They came to a beaten road, followed that
for half a mile, then struck off on the true line. But they had no idea
that they were followed until, after an hour of travel, the sun came up
and on a far distant slope, full two miles away, they saw a thin black
line of many spots, at least a dozen British soldiers in pursuit.

The enemy was on snowshoes, and without baggage evidently, for they
travelled fast. Rolf and Quonab burdened with the sled were making
a losing race. But they pushed on as fast as possible--toiling and
sweating at that precious load. Rolf was pondering whether the time had
not yet come to stop and burn the packet, when, glancing back from a
high ridge that gave an outlook, he glimpsed a row of heads that dropped
behind some rocks half a mile away, and a scheme came into his mind. He
marched boldly across the twenty feet opening that was in the enemy's
view, dropped behind the spruce thickets, called Quonab to follow, ran
around the thicket, and again crossed the open view. So he and Quonab
continued for five minutes, as fast as they could go, knowing perfectly
well that they were watched. Round and round that bush they went,
sometimes close together, carrying the guns, sometimes dragging the
sled, sometimes with blankets on their shoulders, sometimes with a short
bag or even a large cake of snow on their backs. They did everything
they could to vary the scene, and before five minutes the British
officer in charge had counted fifty-six armed Americans marching in
single file up the bank with ample stores, accompanied by five yellow
dogs. Had Skookum been allowed to carry out his ideas, there would have
been fifty or sixty yellow dogs, so thoroughly did he enter into the
spirit of the game.

The track gave no hint of such a troop, but of course not, how could it?
since the toboggan left all smooth after they had passed, or maybe this
was a reinforcement arriving. What could he do with his ten men against
fifty of the enemy? He thanked his stars that he had so cleverly evaded
the trap, and without further attempt to gauge the enemy's strength, he
turned and made all possible haste back to the shelter of Ogdensburg.

Chapter 71. Sackett's Harbour

It was hours before Rolf was sure that he had stopped the pursuit, and
the thing that finally set his mind at rest was the rising wind that
soon was a raging and drifting snow storm. "Oh, blessed storm!" he sa